


Paperwork

by oakfarmer



Series: Filed Away [1]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Post-Mockingjay, Pre-Epilogue Mockingjay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-11 14:42:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20547857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oakfarmer/pseuds/oakfarmer
Summary: One of my favorite things is when Gale returns to District 12 sometime after ‘so after’.4 alternative timelines of Gale’s first visit home since the warYears 2, 3, 4, and 5





	1. Year 2

2 years after the war (2 months after ‘so after’) -

It’s late afternoon, when the hovercraft lands in a clearing just outside Victor’s Village. He wished he could have avoided flying one of these over his fire scarred home district.

Unfortunately the train tracks are still in the process of being repaired across much of the country.

Gale marches down the open ramp. His eyes roam over their forest. Would he find her out there? A flash of her crouched on their meeting rock, waiting for him to start their hunt, colors his vision.

He inhales a deep breath. The scent of pine swirls around him, no longer obscured by coal dust or ash. It’s probably too late in the day for her to still be in the woods.

Turning towards the village, he sees the blonde mop of hair running over the hill. His head jerks around wildly, like he’s scanning for every threat, until blue eyes lock with steel grey.

Peeta freezes. A beat. Two beats. He’s not sure how long they stare at each other. Haymitch stumbles up behind him and places a hand on the baker’s shoulder. It seems to be more out of the need to hold onto something while he catches his breath, than out of reassurance.

Rage catches in Gale’s throat at the sight of the useless drunk. His feet remember the reason he’s here and carry him up the hill.

“Abernathy! Where is Katniss? Mellark, I thought you were still under orders for treatment in the Capitol.” Gale barks.

Peeta’s mouth gapes opens twice, but no sound comes out.

“It’s nice to see you too, Hawthorne.” Haymitch slurs through his last name. “What a pleasant surprise, don’t all Victors just love surprises. And in one of those goddamn contraptions too.” He gestures to the hovercraft with the flask clutched in his hand.

Gale stops in front of them. Folding his arms over his uniform. He stands like the solider he is. Peeta’s hands repeatedly clench at his sides.  
“Dr. Aurelius cleared me for release. I’m allowed to do the ordered treatments by phone, just like Katniss.” Peeta’s surprisingly calm voice cuts through the silence.

Glancing at the slight tremor in Peeta’s arms, Gale releases a puff of air.  
Haymitch steps between the two younger men. The liquor fumes burn into Gale’s nostrils, “Are you here on business or just catching up for old times sake?” He seems to have sobered up quite a bit in the span of a few minutes.

“I’m here because you failed to file the last two quarters of Mockingjay Reports.”  
He sees Peeta’s confused expression over Haymitch’s shoulder.

“Sweetheart had a birthday. She’s an adult. Guess you didn’t get an invite to the party. But, means I’m not her guardian anymore.” He takes a sip from the flask.

Gale looks up at the sky, exasperated by the incompetence. “Her age doesn’t matter. You are currently registered as the representative of 12.” He bends down into Haymitch’s face. “And you only have one job. File the report every 3 months. When 12 gets a mayor, you are welcome to drink yourself into oblivion. Until then you have to report what she’s doing!”

Peeta’s eyes widen as he looks back and forth between them. Haymitch scratches under his chin, “Well, shit.”

“Yea, or maybe if either of you would answer a phone, I wouldn’t have needed to make this little trip!” Haymitch at least has the decency to look sheepish at that.

“So, Haymitch just needs to complete some paperwork?” Peeta asks.

Gale’s eyes narrow. “No, now I have to do my own report. Her safety is a priority to a lot of people, including me.” The truth is the few officials who were pressuring for the reports are more interested in her exile than her well being.

Peeta’s face turns hard. He spins around and stomps with uneven steps towards Victor’s Village. Gale and Haymitch follow a few paces behind.

Gale watches as Peeta climbs the steps to Katniss’ house, pulls open the door without knocking, then slams it shut behind him.

Haymitch grabs Gale’s arm before he can even climb the first step. “No, you need to give them some time.” Haymitch’s grip tightens.

Them? “I saw his hands shaking. How sure are you that she’s safe being alone with him?”

Haymitch laughs. “Well she’s survived this long.”

Gale jerks his arm away and faces the drunk. “When was he released?”

Haymitch shrugs, “He came home about 2 months after she did.”

Gale is fuming. “The guy, who repeatedly tried to kill her, moves in next door and you didn’t think to include that in any of the reports you did bother to file?”

“He’s allowed to live where he wants. They’re not called the Star crossed lovers reports.”  
Haymitch is smirking at him as he raises his flask. Gale is about to smack it out of his hand when the door opens and closes behind him.

Peeta stands on the top step, his hand never leaving the door knob. “She has agreed to see you in the morning during breakfast, as long as Haymitch comes too.” Haymitch rolls his eyes but nods.

Gale sighs, “That will work.”

Peeta chews on his lip. “Umm, if you need a place to stay, you’re welcome to stay at my house.”

Gale quirks an eyebrow, maybe he has made some progress. It’s a self imposing politeness that was so characteristic of the old Peeta. “Thank you, that would be great.”

“Okay, yea just ...make yourself at home.” Peeta’s gaze turns cold and he looks at Haymitch. “We need to speak with you. Now.”

“I think we can deal with it at breakfa—-“  
“Haymitch!” Even Gale recoils a bit at the harsh tone.

Haymitch takes a long slow swig of his drink. “Fine, let’s get this over with.” He slaps Gale on the back before he passes to follow Peeta into her house.

Once again the door slams in Gale’s face.  
His eyes stay unfocused on the white door until the muffled raised voices shake him out of his stupor.

She agreed to see him at least. And it only took a few minutes for her to do that. He was worried he’d have to force her to meet with him under threat of another hearing in the Capitol.

He wanders across the lawn to Peeta’s house. The door is unlocked. When he steps in his eyes have to adjust to the darkness.

If the invitation to stay here gave him some optimism about Peeta’s recovery, the state of the place does the opposite.

There is a thin layer of dust covering most surfaces. The kitchen seems to be mostly clean at least.

A few holes litter the walls of the living room, and a lamp is cracked with a tear in its shade.  
He climbs the stairs to what he knows must be the guest bedroom from the layout of Katniss’ house. Except in hers it was Prim’s room.

Flopping down on the bed, he watches the dust dance in the sun’s setting rays leaking though the curtains.

He’s exhausted. Coming back here was mentally draining. But he’s been running himself ragged for the last 2 years. Throwing himself into the recovery projects, trying in someway to make amends for the war he was so eager to participate in.

There were ways he tried to make amends to her too. When he heard Plutarch was hoping for an anniversary interview, he was able to get it blocked from ever even being proposed to her.

He’d given her space. When he desperately wanted to write or call, he reminded himself of the way she looked at him the last time they spoke. Knowing he was now a source of pain.

The reports had eased his conscience. She was eating. She was going into the woods again. Only when they stopped coming did he give in to the urge to pick up the phone.

Now she was just, what was that stupid thing Peeta had said? Now she was just 25 yards away from him. Locked behind a slammed door.

He wakes to silence. The night’s black sky only beginning to lighten to a shade of blue. Peaking into the master bedroom, he finds it empty. Who knew baker’s hours could rival a hunter’s.

Slipping out the front door, he looks up at her open bedroom window. It’s dark. No movement except a soft fluttering of the sheer curtains.

If he were a lucky man, she would go hunting this morning. They would cross paths under the trees. He’d be able to have a moment alone with her. In their forest, at their spot. It would feel almost like before.

The odds never really were in his favor though.

In the woods, he can’t find a single snare line. He checks all his old spots. Tries tracking her faded steps. Not one snare. He wonders if she doesn’t like the idea of traps anymore. If it’s another thing he tainted and destroyed.

Haymitch is out on his porch when he comes back to the village.

He doesn’t say anything, makes some kind of half gesture to follow him. Then shuffles his way across the lawn and through the door.

Stepping across the threshold, Gale’s focus jumps from one detail to the next. Piecing together the not so subtle clues before him.

The second coat hanging on the hook, the extra pair of large shoes next to her boots. An unfinished game of chess on the coffee table. A painting hung in the hall. He can smell the paints, mixing with the scent of fresh bread.

The realization hits him and he wants to deny it. To go back to his ignorance. But when he walks into the kitchen, Peeta’s arm is wrapped too tight around her waist, his hand rubbing too low on her hip. She’s pressed into his side too close, her face pressed too easily into his neck.

They ease apart when he enters, but it’s too late. Peeta came back to her, he had stayed away.

“Gale.” She says with a nod. Her face the neutral mask she always wore. His name doesn’t have the hate behind it anymore. But there’s no kindness there either. There’s nothing, because that’s what he is.

“I was told there would be food.” Hamitch flops down into a chair. Peeta scoops and slices whatever he’s finishing for the meal. Gale sits, Katniss doesn’t move from her place against the counter.

“We went ahead and filled out the info for the report.” Haymitch slides a stack of papers over to him. “If ya wanna know anything else, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

The reports are superficial anyway. They want to know where she goes. Two witnesses that she’s been seen where they say. A basic questionnaire about her mental state.

What he really wants to know won’t be found in these pages.

A plate is already in front of him by the time he’s finished flipping through the papers.  
Peeta helps turn what could have been the most uncomfortable meal of his life into a halfway pleasant one.

He asks about his job in two, the recovery efforts in each of the districts, how 12 got chosen for the medical factory that was voted on last month.

He can almost ignore their clasped hands under the table.

Katniss stays mostly quiet until he spots Buttercup. She tells the story of how he made his way home all the way from 13. How he tolerates her now that she gives him a steady diet of all the bacon he could ever want.

When his plate is empty, they follow him to the door.

“Katniss....I’m really glad to see you’re doing okay. Both of you actually.” Looking between her and Peeta who’s arm has once again laced around her waist. And he means it, she’s doing better than he could have hoped for.

She looks at the floor, fidgeting her foot. “Thank you. I’m glad you’re doing ok too.” Its soft, but she sounds sincere. He swallows and he thinks he might be able to believe her.

They say their goodbyes and he boards the hovercraft. Hugging the paperwork his conscience should no longer require.


	2. Year 3

Hamitch never missed filing a Mockingjay Report.

3 years after the war (1 year and 3 months after ‘so after’) -

It’s mid afternoon, when the train finally screeches to a halt. The option for him to travel via hovercraft had been scratched at his insistence. Of all the war-torn districts, the people who have returned to 12 have every reason to be fearful of the ominous humming overhead.

Plus he desperately needed the 3 day reprieve before arriving here.

The station is empty except for the few people tasked with unloading the rail supply car. The district’s population recently surpassed the 500 mark but he finds the stillness of his former home of 8000 unsettling.

He walks down to the new square. If he can complete part of his job today, he should be able to spend some time in the woods tomorrow morning.

He’s fantasized about his ideal scenario these last few years. Quietly slipping into the district unannounced. Tracking her along their old hunting trails, finding her in that most familiar spot. Waiting for him on the rock. She’d turn around and instead of being startled by his sudden appearance, she would smile. Hug him even. Tell him all is forgiven. She’s okay, he’s okay. They’ve healed.

How his mind can still allow him to indulge in such perfect worlds is a mystery to him.

His superiors want to break ground on the new medicine factory soon. He’s been tasked with making an assessment of the current commerce and setting up the supply chain for the incoming construction crews.

A job that should have been done remotely by someone else in his department, if the shopkeepers had submitted their business forms.

He can’t help but feel a little proud though. Of all the districts, his has proven to be the most stubborn about resisting the new government’s paperwork requirements. But it probably has to do with the fact that many were originally Hob stand operators, rather than Merchants who were accustom to complying with regulations.

The new shops in the square are all wrong. The grocery is about where the apothecary used to stand. The butcher is near the old shoe shop. He understands why they’ve done it this way, no one likes the idea of building on top of graves. But he can’t help but wonder if others find their feet carrying them towards the wrong storefront the way his would like to.

It’s all just slightly twisted. New, a few improvements but in many ways the same. It’s how he would describe the recovery across the rest of Panem as well.

“Gale?” He turns to see the shop tucked several feet back and angled onto its own small side road. Large windows wrap around the front 1/4 of the building. The long side, that can be seen from his vantage point in the square, is covered in a mural of the woods and a lake. In soft orange calligraphy above the water, the words “Mellark Bakery” decorate the sky.

Other than the mural and some extra windows, everything else about the structure seems to be a replica of the old bakery. Where he knocked on the old back door and traded with the old baker. He recognizes the odd placement is because it stands on the footprint of the past. Of all people, it makes sense that Peeta doesn’t mind keeping the ghosts company.

“Hi Mellark, when did you have this built? I thought your treatment orders in the Capitol ended just a couple months ago.” He looks over the building again, wondering how long it takes to paint a mural.

Peeta’s hand raises from the towel he’d been cleaning his arms with, to rub the back of his neck. “I’ve actually been home a while. Dr. Aurelius let me do some of the treatments by phone.” Peeta’s eyes dart into the bakery.

This is news to Gale. After being pardoned for killing Mitchell, Peeta was placed under strict treatment orders as part of his terms. His recent release papers are still sitting on Gale’s desk back in 2.

“Oh, that’s good. Looks like you’ve been keeping busy.” He gestures to the bakery.

“Yea, so what brings you to town?” Peeta keeps looking through the front window. He’s awfully fidgety, for someone who is suppose to be mostly symptom free.

“I actually need to see you, well you and all the new shopkeepers. There’s some forms I need you to complete.” Gale pulls them from his satchel. “We’re ready to get the supply chain in order for the factory crews. But need to know what work load the present stores will be able to accommodate.”

Peeta takes the packet and looks pleased about the announcement. It’s going to be a big boom for those who have established their businesses early in 12’s rebuilding.

“Sounds like I need to start training some apprentices.” Once again he looks into the bakery.

“If you need to go help a customer, it’s fine. I’d actually like to see the inside.” He’d only been in the front of the original Mellark Bakery a handful of times. Most all of his dealing were conducted at the back, but this sole relic of the square he once knew is pulling on him. As if walking through its doors can rewind the world’s clock.

“Umm.” Peeta’s hand returns to its earlier fidgeting behind his head. “I’m sorry, could you wait here just a minute. I’ll be right back.”  
He jogs back into the bakery. The sweet warm air wafts out through the door.

Gale didn’t know what to make of Mellark’s seeming refusal to allow him into the bakery. Maybe his mother’s wicked spirit haunted the place, swinging around her phantom broom to keep out the Seam trash.

He sees Peeta’s sandy head duck down behind the front counter. If this is what Dr. Aurelius had declared ‘effectively cured’, he’s tempted to have the case evaluated by a second opinion. Especially since he’s living near Katniss again.

Slowly Peeta stands, reaching out. A woman with dark hair pops up and tucks herself into his embrace.

Peeta steps back but keeps ahold of her arms. He knows it’s her, but it’s also really not her. Her braid doesn’t hang to the side, but is pinned up around her head, keeping it off her neck. Her body is covered in an apron but he can still make out her new shape. She has plumped out in ways that he only remembers merchant wives being able to achieve.

Before. That was before. But the lack of food shortages has clearly been kind to her.

She looks at him through the glass and he forgets to breathe. Her eyes cut right through him.

He’s still caught in her stare when Peeta jumps in front of him.

He clears his throat. “So as you can see, Katniss is inside. We’d love to show you around the bakery. Then I can get those papers filled out, and you two can talk for a bit.” Peeta smiles as he holds open the shop door.

Not one of his fantasies had prepared him for this. Even the ones that go terribly wrong, where she shoots him through the eyes with her arrows, did not prepare him to see her working behind the counter of the Mellark Bakery.

His mind catches up with his body, which now stands trapped inside the too hot shop.

Her arms are folded in front of the white apron. “Gale.” The tinge of anger she puts under his name isn’t as bad as he expected. It’s an improvement from when she’d told him goodbye in the Capitol.

“Maybe you’ve forgotten but we do get mail here, and we have a phone. A warning you were coming would have been nice.” Katniss’ tone is short but mostly neutral. He can’t help but wince at her use of the word ‘warning’ though.

He watches Peeta scoot next to her. His hand sliding lower and lower down her back. She doesn’t even flinch, if anything she leans into the caress.

“Surprises just, really aren’t what they used to be, Gale.” Peeta says. He certainly can’t argue with that statement. At the moment, he’s not enjoying these surprises either.

“Sorry, I didn’t think about it. I’m here for work. I’m sup—“

“Peeta told me.” She cuts him off.

He gives a curt nod before swiveling his head up and around to take in his surroundings.

Much like the rest of the square, things in here aren’t quite as similar to the before as he’d originally pictured.

The price chalkboard is probably triple the size of the one he remembers. The handwriting is impeccable and there is a small chalk rendering drawn next to each item. A couple paintings of bread and cakes hang in places he’s sure were blank before.

A table for two sits next to the extra front window he had observed from the street. The book laid on top of it is labeled ‘Cake Designs’. The window makes the front so much brighter, even if everything else looked exactly the same, it wouldn’t feel the same.

“Would you like to see the kitchen? It’s pretty close to what I was used to. I did enlarge the oven and move the sink. Other than that...”

“Oh, umm, that’s okay. You’ve done a nice job with the place, Mellark.” He really doesn’t need to hear Peeta ramble on about ovens and cake pans during a guided tour. He is almost tempted to go to the backdoor and see what it looks like from there though, almost.

“So you’re a hunter and a baker now?” Gale turns his attention to Katniss. He wonders how she interacts with the customers. If 12 just sees her as a fellow citizen, or if they cower as the Mockingjay hands them their bread with a scowl.

Her eyes narrow ever so slightly. “I help out in the afternoons. Do the books. Prep work. No one is eating anything I bake.”

A chuckle comes from Peeta. “We’re working on it.” And he’s looking at her. That same way he always looked at her, before the Capitol erased it from his face and replaced it with a mutt’s snarl. Is this the look Dr. Aurelius, saw? Did he sign those release papers right then and there when he did?

“Are you hungry? Pick anything you’d like. You two can sit and talk and I’ll work on this.”

Katniss’ eyes flash to Peeta. They seem to be having an entire argument, that Gale is not privy to, with nothing but their eyes. From what he can gather Peeta won, because she turns and says, “What would you like?”

“I don’t need anything.” Gale waves his hand to brush off the offer.

“He’ll just insist and put four things on a plate if you don’t choose. So you might as well pick what you want.” A hint of a smile graces her face, her voice is almost light.

He picks what he’s told is a lemon custard tart. She wraps it in wax paper and hands him the treat. Peeta plucks some kind of roll with a greasy top from the case that he drops into her hands. He pecks a kiss to her nose and shoos her out from behind the counter.

They both stand awkwardly for a moment. She takes a deep breath and sits at the tiny window table. Gale joins her, as Peeta goes back into the kitchen.

He’s not sure what to do now that they’re alone. The rehearsed lines he’s wanted to tell her for so long won’t come. He watches as she pulls apart the roll with her fingers. Sitting in her apron, flour dusting her shoulder, her dark hair styled the way he remembers on so many blonde heads.

He always thought she was a creature of the forest, wild. But seeing her here, he can’t help but wonder if she always belonged here too. If this is where she was bound to end up.

“So you and Mellark, huh? He seems to be doing better. Hasn’t had an episode around you?” He tries to sound casual, he’s not sure he succeeds.

Her eyes cut through him once again. “He’s fine. He doesn’t even have to speak with the doctor anymore, yet he still ends up talking to him longer than I do.” He knows she’s still under treatment orders, those release papers have certainly not crossed his desk.

“Okay. I’m just saying, you might want to take your time around him. He was cleared what, two months ago?”

She barks out a chilling laugh. It reminds him of Haymitch, maybe she’s been stuck with the old drunk too long. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She smiles looking at the last bite of her roll before shoving it in her mouth.

“Are you going hunting in the morning?” The words he’s been wanting to say are fighting to break through. She’s agitated. Maybe if she would meet him out there, it would be easier.

She half snorts. “Apparently not.”

“Catnip, look if we could just talk about th—-“

“No!” She jumps up, her chair scrapes behind her. “You can’t just show up here, insult Peeta, throw around old nicknames, and think I’m going to offer you forgiveness!”

Peeta comes rushing out of the kitchen. Papers bending in his fist. She rips the form from him. Her eyes dart back and forth over it.

“There. There’s your paperwork.” She tosses it in his face. “Everything appears to be in order. Now get out!”

He scrambles through the door. It had gone worse than his imagination could have conjured.

He crosses the street looking at the crumpled paper. And that’s when he realizes, another Mrs. Mellark just threw him out of the bakery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers! If you’re wondering why paperwork is tying these timelines together, one reason is because I like the idea of Gale being a bit of a lackey/paper-pusher.  
Sure he’s got a big important job in 2. They probably use his face since he’s recognized from the revolution. But he’s also, what? 22? How big of a job are they really going to give him?  
Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy. Even if there is too much paperwork involved ;)


	3. Year 4

Peeta filed the Mellark Bakery business forms. 

Haymitch never missed filing a Mockingjay Report. 

4 years after the war (2 years and 4 months after ‘so after’) -

It’s around noon when the train pulls into the station, but the sky is dark grey. The rain falls in sheets across the platform. Rory’s crew won’t be unloading the supply cars until this weather clears up.

He had hoped to surprise his not so little brother when he stepped out of the train. Rory moved back to 12 last month to join the construction crews finishing the new medicine factory. 

After buttoning up his peacoat, he raises his large black umbrella and walks toward town. The temporary justice building should be close by, he’d likely find Thom there. His old mining buddy won the election for Mayor. In many ways, Thom had unofficially been seen as the mayor since the war ended. There were new responsibilities with the official title and salary, however. Including a lot more communication and reports to Panem’s central government.

Gale passes through the reconstructed square. The downpour blurs the new last names on the signs of the mixed around shops. The shifting they’ve done from the square he remembers is a bit disorienting. He finds the darkened bakery sits where he expected, an anchor for his memory map. Mellark must have closed up for the day, figuring no one would bother with bread in the rain.

When Peeta was released from the mandatory treatment orders, Gale called the doctor who’d been assigned his case. He wanted to know if Mellark would be returning to twelve. If so, a protection unit could be assigned to Katniss as a precaution. But Dr. Aurelius was emphatic that Mr. Mellark was in no way a threat to her safety, no matter where he chose to live.

He cited patient confidentiality and acted evasive when Gale tried to push the topic. It was all but confirmation that Peeta would return to their home district. The call took an odd turn after Gale mentioned his position with the Justice Department, Dr. Aurelius grew very defensive. He stated that he had been granted the authority to direct Mr. Mellark’s treatment plan and would not discuss his patient any further. Then hung up.

Haymitch wasn’t any help either. The one time he’d managed to get him on the phone, he was too drunk to take anything seriously. He just kept going on about how Gale sounded like he needed to get laid.

Out of exasperation, he contacted Effie Trinket. As one of the few surviving escorts of the games, she was offered a position as the liaison for the remaining Victors. But he had suffered through her shrill Capitol accent for nothing. She told him Katniss was a big girl and if she felt threatened, she knew how to get ahold of her for a protection order.

He let it go after that. Trinket was right, and if Katniss was doing as well as the Mockingjay reports indicated then she wouldn’t completely disregard her own safety. Everything seemed to be fine until the last report which was completed by Thom’s office instead of Haymitch. Even after he moved back, the name Peeta Mellark did not appear once in those documents. But in Thom’s handwriting, Peeta’s name appeared as often as Katniss’ did.

That latest report is what sent Plutarch’s public relations branch into overdrive. They are clamoring to get some footage of the two of them before the next Reaping Memorial Day.

A camera crew would have already descended on District 12, if they weren’t bound to the ‘Privacy and Press Act’ that President Parlor signed years ago. It doesn’t hold them off forever, though. Plutarch sent Katniss notice of the filming. She then had 30 days to send an appeal for privacy.

Gale is confident the appeal would be granted, if Katniss would sign the paperwork he has mailed her twice. She only has four days left before Plutarch can film her in any part of the District considered to be public domain.

If she had just chosen someone else, someone new, maybe the interest wouldn’t be so intense. To quote a cackling Johanna, in an open-back hospital gown, “There are plenty of birds in the sky and squirrels in the trees.” But then she had also added, as she turned down the grey corridor, “And that Mockingjay has an affinity for the nuts of a certain blonde baker squirrel.” She must have been on more than morphling at the time.

He knows, deep down, the extra media attention isn’t why Mellark upsets him. Why was she able to forgive Peeta but not him? She had dismissed Gale from her life with barely a blink. Snow had twisted Peeta’s gifts and turned him into a weapon against the people he loved. Hadn’t Coin done the same thing to Gale? He loved Prim like his own sister.

Finding which of the makeshift structures is supposed to be the Justice building is proving more difficult than he anticipated. No one is out in the storm to ask and with so many extra temp workers in town, there’s no shortage of possibilities. At least the weather should make Katniss easy enough to find.

As he approaches the archway entrance of Victors Village, his ears perk up. The strange mix of sounds is muffled by all the water pounding around him.

He jogs up the hill and the scene stops him in his tracks. The confusing sounds were a combination of a dozen grey geese, and Katniss’ shrieks of laughter in between her demands to be put down.

She is hoisted over Peeta’s shoulder, her feet kicking playfully in front of him. Peeta is stomping around amongst the honking flock. The arm not holding onto Katniss’s backside, swings about dramatically.

“Peeta, put me down!” She squeals.

“I’m your hero in the yard, you’re my hero in the forest.” Peeta’s voice has either deepened with age or this is his ‘hero’ voice.

They are both completely soaked. Their pale colored t-shirts and trousers cling to their skin.

“Peeta,” she’s almost musical, until she catches sight of Gale. “Peeta, put me down!” It is now a command and an alert.

Peeta’s body immediately springs into a fighting stance as he flips around.

“Sorry! It’s just me. Gale!” He shouts, he’s probably hard to recognize in his current get up in the rain. Their faces reminded him why it’s not wise to sneak up on former victors/soldiers. Good thing neither one of them were armed.

“Gale?” Katniss says, facing the opposite way. The ‘yard hero’ did not put her down in the moment of a potential threat. Gingerly, he slides her down his chest. He lowers her feet to the ground but keeps her wrapped in his arms.

“Hey, welcome back. Rory didn’t mention you’d be visiting.” Peeta’s tone isn’t exactly unfriendly, but Gale sees his jaw clench. He is probably still coming down from the mini adrenaline rush.

“I actually came to speak with you two about Plutarch.” Katniss does a full eye roll and Peeta starts one before seeming to think better of it.

“We’re not agreeing to anything. So, if that’s why you’re here, you can tell your boss that his little trip to 12 is going to be a big waste of time.” She snarls.

She did see the notice, then. “I don’t work for Plutarch. I’m trying to block him from coming. What were you planning on doing when the film crew arrives in the next few days?”

Katniss has him fixed in her signature glare, “They can’t film us, if they can’t find us.”

He should have known. “If your plan was to hide in the woods, I wouldn’t recommend it. The whole district was surveyed for the factory construction, that included the woods.” Gale, himself, had spent hours studying the overhead view of his old hunting grounds. Seeing how the terrain had affected his trap placements, deciding where he would have laid lines if he’d had all the information at his disposal.

“Why don’t we take this discussion inside?” Peeta says. He’s been rubbing his hands up and down Katniss’ arms and back. Gale notices she’s shivering.

“We can’t leave the geese loose.” Katniss cranes her neck to look towards Haymitch’s house.

“I’ll take care of ‘em. Just grab me some bread and I’ll be right there.” Peeta speaks to her softly. She puffs up her cheeks then blows out the air, water droplets spraying from her lips.

She takes a short step back from Peeta to peel the front of her shirt away from her curves. Ringing the fabric out to preserve some sense of modesty.

Gale walks closer, thinking to extend out his umbrella, but Katniss bounds towards her house. She takes the steps two at a time, leaving the door open when she disappears inside.

“You can head on in.” Peeta motions across the yard. Gale follows but an impatient gander jabs its beak into his leg.

“Ahh!” Gale turns on the foul fowl.

Peeta’s lips press together in a failed attempt to hide his amusement. “Sorry, they can be ornery. We think that’s why Haymitch likes them.” 

Gale leaps around the feather mines at his feet and jumps up the steps. While lowering his umbrella, he sees Peeta lean over and pat one of the geese on the head.

In the entryway, Katniss comes flying down from the second floor, gripping a towel draped like a shawl across her shoulders. She doesn’t even spare him a passing glance on her way to the kitchen.

Gale steps inside. He nearly trips over a pile of two backpacks, a quiver and a duffel bag. Her bow is propped against the wall.

Emerging from the kitchen with two loaves tucked under her arm, she tosses them out to Peeta. They land in the mud near his feet. 

“This feels somewhat ironic.” Peeta’s voice carries through the storm and into the foyer.

A thoughtful smile grows on her face, “I should have burned them first.”

Peeta starts tearing off chunks and throwing them at the geese, “You’re too good of a baker to ever do such a thing.”

Katniss lets out a loud sarcastic laugh but the genuine smile doesn’t leave her eyes. The birds march behind Mother Goose Mellark as he leads them to the drunk’s backyard.

“So, Haymitch has geese?” Gale says, after Peeta passes behind Haymitch’s house.

“He’s surprisingly good with surly things. Peeta covers the slack on his bad days.” Her voice is wistful and he’s not sure if they’re still talking about the birds. “He’s had quite a few bad days this week.”

“I guess you guys really were about to take off for the woods.” He gestures to the bags.

She whips around to face him. “Why are you here, Gale?”

“I came to help you. I mailed the appeal twice. All you had to do was sign and give it to Thom. He could have handled the rest.”

She barges past him into the living room and returns clenching the familiar papers. “You mean this, that says if denied, I forfeit the waiting period? So, it’s either I know when he’s coming or send this off and surprise, the Plutarch parade is outside!”

Her logic is sound enough, if she has zero faith in the person who mailed her the appeal. “I sent it because it’s not going to be denied. My department deals with this. I’ll be able to get the approval.”

Mellark makes his grand lumbering entrance. Tapping his muddy boots against the railing before stepping in from the rain. He twists his shirt out over the doorsill, attempting to leave some of the water outside. While shutting the door, he shakes his hair dry like a dog. Sending a mist throughout the room.

He looks between Gale and Katniss. “So, what’d I miss?” Her grip on the papers is still tight but some of her earlier anger seems to have deflated.

“Let’s get dressed, first.” Katniss takes Peeta’s hand and is already pulling him towards the stairs.

“Okay.” He twists to speak to Gale. Katniss continues to lead him away. “Make yourself comfortable. The living room’s behind you. We’ll be down in a minute and I’ll make some tea.”

Gale wanders into the living room, unbuttoning his coat. Near the top of the stairs he faintly hears Katniss’ hissing whispers and Peeta’s more echoey hushed tone say something about ‘being polite’, before a bedroom door shuts.

Three oval-shaped portraits draw his attention above the fireplace. The one on the left holds a family of four. He only recognizes one of the figures by face, but it’s unmistakable who the rest are. A young and worry line free Mrs. Everdeen holds a grinning blonde toddler in her arms. A girl with piercing eyes, her dark hair in two braids, stands proudly in front of her father. He’s wearing a jacket that Gale has seen hundreds of times swimming on someone much too small to fill it.

On the right are five blondes, each with a subtly unique shade. The baker’s friendly face. The matron wears a soft expression that Gale wonders if it existed in memory or fantasy. Two growing boys entering adolescence, one with a mischievous grin and the other a stoic smile. Squeezed between his brothers sits a gap tooth boy who looks like he could fall in love because of a song.

The center portrait holds a young couple. Her hair falls in waves behind her shoulders and is adorned with a golden wildflower crown. Her smile is worn, but she is clearly content. His smile is beaming as he hugs her close. The implication of the three paintings side by side would be hard to miss.

He pulls his eyes away when he hears heavy footfalls on the stairs. Peeta rounds the corner, his damp hair still dripping onto the sweater he was finishing pulling over his head. Katniss follows, the paper held down at her side. 

“You can take a seat. Let me get the kettle started.” Peeta’s halfway out of the room, ready to play host.

“That’s okay, I really shouldn’t stay long anyway.” Gale checks out the window. It’s still raining but it’s started to lighten up.

Katniss shifts uncomfortably. “I told Peeta what you said about the appeal. I signed it. Do you have one for him?”

He had not thought to fill one out for Mellark. “He can add his name to yours and it will apply for you both.”

She looks at him sideways before passing the pen and paper over to Peeta.

“I can take it over to Thom right now. He’ll be able to forward it to my supervisor and she’ll get it taken care of. You guys won’t need to worry about Plutarch for a while. This one is good for two years. And you can always file another one after that.” He hopes she knows that he is still looking out for her. She doesn’t need a hero, but at least he can be her ally in the Justice Department.

“Thank you so much, Gale. Not that I wasn’t looking forward to hiding out in the woods. Might have given me the opportunity to brush up on my camouflage skills.” Mellark chuckles at his own joke while handing Gale the form. 

“Yea, happy to help and maybe I can take you up on that tea some other time, but I should head out. I need to find the new Justice building, then maybe I can track down Rory.” He tucks the appeal safely into his satchel while Peeta gives him directions to Thom’s office based on the old and new landmarks of twelve.

Gale stalls at the front door before turning back towards Katniss. “Will you be hunting in the morning? My train doesn’t leave until tomorrow night. Maybe we could meet out there and talk about…things.”

“Gale. I, … It’s been a rough couple weeks. I appreciate your help and maybe one day I can have the conversation you want.” She takes a breath before looking at her feet. “I’m not ready, yet.”

“Okay, Catn…iss.” He tries to swallow his disappointment and manages a slight smile.

She gives him a slight smile back. They say their goodbyes and false promises to see each other soon. Climbing down the doorsteps, Gale keeps his umbrella closed at his side. The sun is finally peeking through the clouds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi readers! I hope it’s clear that the TEAM has gained an extra ‘A’ (new acronym the A-TEAM, obviously). I always liked Dr. Aurelius, that napping rule breaker, pretending to treat Katniss for months.


	4. Year 5

Katniss signed and filed the privacy appeal.

Peeta filed the Mellark Bakery business forms. 

Haymitch never missed filing a Mockingjay Report. 

5 years after the war (3 years and 5 months after ‘so after’) –

It’s morning when the hovercraft touches down on the factory roof landing pad. His brother greets him with an enthusiastic wave as the ramp door lowers into place.

Rory received a contract as one of the medicine production line workers in the completed factory. He’s been asking Gale to visit for months, ever since construction finished on his house. Their mother, Vick and Posy have already made the trip twice.

Gale has delayed partly for legitimate reasons. There were projects he was wrapping up for work, deadlines to meet. Also, partly because of the letter that weighs heavily in his pocket. He’d attempted to mail it multiple times, but it never left his hand. Every time he looked at the name above the address, it would return to his pocket to be rewritten another day.

“You made it!” Rory drapes an arm across his shoulders. “Was starting to think I’d have to go to Two and bring you back myself.”

“I missed you too, Rory.” Gale ruffles his little brother’s hair, even though Rory is now the taller one between them.

“Wished you’d told me earlier, I’m afraid I wasn’t able to trade shifts for today.” They step into the elevator for the main floor.

Gale called about his plan to visit only four days earlier. “Oh, well, that’s okay. I could find Thom. The Justice building project is still in the development stage—”

“No, no. You’re not working your first day here.” Rory’s side eye accentuates his disapproval.

“It’d be nice to see him, too.” Gale’s attempt to defend himself is half-hearted.

“Yea, but you’re already trying to turn this into a business trip.” The elevator doors slide open to the factory lobby. Gale only takes a few steps out before catching sight of the artwork that covers one of the round structural pillars. He doesn’t need the artist’s signature to know exactly who’s hand painted the brush strokes.

The bottom two-thirds has become the mines. Dark winding caverns and tunnels with only sparse points of light. The closer he gets, the figures begin to emerge. Miners, their faces darkened by coal dust, their eyes glowing beacons. Rarely tucked among the sea of those who belonged to the earth, are those who did not. The cobbler repairing a boot, the baker feeding an oven, a teacher surrounded by students.

Circling the column, his eye travels higher. A woman with one arm holds a bottle, a girl in a pretty dress holds a bucket of strawberries. The bright white of a peacekeeper uniform seems more out of place than the rest, until he spots the patch of red hair on his head. Capping the top of this graveyard is a lush flowering meadow.

“I hate it.” Gale says flatly. Why would Peeta paint them like this? Why would the people working in this building want to walk past a tomb?

Rory gives a sad smile, “I know. But it gets more beautiful the longer you look at.” He continues walking. The soft blue above the meadow is beginning to fill with green. Every plant and herb he’s seen in the woods, and many more he hasn’t, cover the sky. The stalks point down to the factory, the monolith of the field. A medic with a long blonde braid, and the back of her shirt untucked, walks towards the wide-open doors.

He can see it now. The mix of greenery climbs up and out the factory’s roof, spreading out into twelve branches. Every twist and turn of the tunnels below lead into the factory’s base. A tree of the past and the future. He still hates it.

“Why? Why did he ---how can you stand it?”

Rory tilts his head up, his eyes tracing the pillar, “There was quite the debate when he proposed the sketches at the town hall. It’s meant to depict our roots as a mining community. Honor those who may have worked here. All the potential trapped underground. How we’ve grown into a home for healing. It was all very poetic when Peeta presented it. The vote was overwhelmingly in favor.”

Gale shuts his eyes and turns away. The image of everyone he failed burns behind his eye lids. “I do need to find Katniss while I’m here, at some point.”

“Well, they’re having us over for dinner tonight. So, I’ve already got that covered.” Rory informs him.

His eyes shoot open, “Did you tell her I would be there?”

“Yes.” Rory lays out his hand, like the answer should have been obvious.

Gale pinches the bridge of his nose, “I asked you not to do that.”

“And I told you that was a terrible idea, and I was going to tell them. Still can’t understand why you’d think surprising her would go well. I went to the village late one night, and the three of them ran out holding a broken bottle, a rolling pin, and a cat. You’d actually be surprised who was holding what.” Rory chuckles.

It’s not that he thought it was a particularly good idea. He wanted to see how she would genuinely react to seeing him again. If he could feel the hatred the moment she made eye contact, or would she see a friend? “Did she seem happy about seeing me?”

“Well, technically I told Peeta, but she’s usually happy to see _me_.” Rory smiles a boyish grin in contrast to Gale’s glower. “Look relax, I need you to do something for me. You’ll like it. You get to run my snare line this morning!”

He’s been looking forward to running the line, getting back out into the woods. He can’t help but scold his little brother, though. “Do you usually leave chores for your guests?”

“Nope, saved it just for you.” One of the ways the brothers had kept in touch since Rory moved back to Twelve was that snare line. Gale would send a map marked with a location and which snares to try there. Then Rory would report back the stats. Gale would tweak the traps for a few months before he’d pick a new spot to test. “Do you need the newest map?”

“No, I can find it.” After Rory gives him some brief directions to his new home, that end with ‘just knock on a door if you get lost’, he waves him out the factory entrance.

On his way to the woods, he passes through what is no longer called the Seam. The cramped crisscrossing of coal dusted shacks, he saw turn to ash, is now known as the Garden. A name he appreciates more with each step. The sturdy houses sit spaced apart with expansive yards in between. Edible plants, maintained with varying degrees of skill, color the landscape.

He reaches the border of district and forest. A five-foot tall rail fence stands, the kind designed solely with 4 legged animals in mind. There should be a gate less than a mile in either direction but it’s just as easy to climb over.

A few paces under the trees, he’s struck by the sameness. The refuge of his youth untouched by the horrors of war. Yet things are missing even here. The bow he left tucked under his bed in Two. The bond severed by searing anger.

He’d spent years attempting to deny his culpability in the double bomb. Is a blacksmith responsible if his axe is used as a weapon instead of a tool? Beetee had argued as much in his overly logical, philosopher way. The guilt would gnaw at the back of his mind. When he couldn’t take the shame, he’d grow angry with her. How could she blame him for something that had been taken out of his control?

Learning she’d not only forgiven Peeta but married him, dissolved the remainder of his self-preserving justifications. Snow turned Peeta into a weapon, Coin turned Gale into a weapon. Both had been unleashed to destroy Katniss. They were the same, but they weren’t the same at all.

The Capitol pumped venom into Peeta to create a hateful mutt. Coin only needed to provide an outlet for the hateful venom already circulating Gale’s veins. Hate and rage, he had never tried to suppress. Hate and rage, Peeta painstakingly clawed his way out of to recover his identity.

He can feel the corner of the envelope dig into him with each step. The plea begging for her forgiveness. His clumsy attempt at reparation for a blood debt he can never repay.

Blink, two blinks. The mirage sits hugging her knees, facing away from him. Perched on their rock, same braid, same jacket. Only a faded scar, darting up from under the collar to wrap around her neck, marks her as being in the present.

“Gale.” Her voice is steady and sure, carried by the gust of autumn air. “Rory said to meet you at the line, but I thought you might stop here first.” Her words continue to hang in the breeze. His own voice lost somewhere in the past. ”Your tread is rusty.”

The trance is broken. “I think it’s these shoes.”

She makes a noncommittal sound before turning to peak at him over her shoulder. “You can sit.”

He inches towards her as if she could take flight at any moment. Lowering himself down into his spot, the gap between them widened to accommodate the tension. The silence buzzes with electricity just as deadly as the old fence ever was.

“Katniss, I—” Tears prick at his eyes, every carefully crafted word sitting in his letter escapes him. “I’m so sorry.”

She nods, her own expression remains resolute. “I’ve forgiven you, Gale.”

The burst of relief forces out the breath he’d been holding, along with the tears force of will can no longer contain.

She stands, picking up the bow at her side. “I hope you can work with those shoes. We’re tracking a deer.”

The branch rests heavy on his shoulder. A medium-sized buck sways, hanging by its legs. She led him on a new route to the town center, staying in the forest until reaching a gate on a direct path to the bakery.

The morning had passed with a familiar dance. Easily slipping into the well-honed roles they played so many times before. She’d been tracking this young buck for a few days, so he didn’t take too many hours to take down.

A grove of fruit tree saplings dots the backyard. The building so similar, he can almost pretend the Mellark Bakery was merely retouched with a fresh coat of paint rather than obliterated.

Katniss uses her side of the branch to knock on the backdoor. It swings open to reveal a new baker, in the back of a new kitchen.

“You got it! Welcome back, Gale.” Peeta’s easy smile greets them. “Davy, they got the deer! Come help Katniss.” He calls behind him.

An apron clad merchant boy around age fifteen comes into view. Peeta addresses Gale as they climb down the steps. “You remember Davy, Delly Cartwright’s little brother?”

He can’t say he recognizes the kid. Now that he knows the name, there’s a vague resemblance to the young boy he saw tagging along with Delly back in 13.

Davy says a nervous ‘hello’ while relieving him of the branch. Peeta and Katniss exchange an almost imperceptible nod before he gently places a lingering kiss on her cheek.

“That’s quite the snare line haul.” Rory leans against the doorframe of the bakery, punctuating his quip with a wink.

Katniss and Davy are already walking away hoisting the buck. “See you guys at dinner.” She says with a soft smile.

“Looks like it was a productive hunt.” Rory joins them in the backyard.

Gale turns away from her retreating form, back towards the two men. “Yea, it….it went well. Better than I could have hoped really.”

“And you’re welcome.” Rory grins.

“Did she tell you that’s the first deer she’s shot since the war?” Peeta asks.

Gale’s eyes widen. “No, she didn’t.”

Peeta nods. “I better get back in there, see you two tonight.” They wave as the baker returns to his kitchen.

Rory walks towards the square, “Let’s go, I want to show you my house. And you need to get cleaned up cause,” he crinkles his nose, “you’re gamey.”

“Hawthorne, how’s Two treaten ya?” The drunk waltzes into Rory’s house just as soon as Gale opened the door to his impatient knocking.

“Uh---"

“Hey Rory!” Haymitch doesn’t wait for Gale’s answer. Rory pokes his head out of the bathroom, toothbrush still in his mouth. “Change a plans. Delly’s invited us over to her farm. So, food’s over there now.”

“-Ounds good.” Rory answers continuing to brush his teeth.

Haymitch removes a flask from his jacket and raises it in a toast towards Gale. “I hear I need to thank you. Sweetheart’s been threatening my two spunkiest geese if y’all didn’t get that deer.” He takes a sip.

Gale puzzles over the alcohol laced words. “Geese? Delly Cartwright has a farm?”

“Delly Linden now. Her, Huckle, and their growing brood run one of the wheat farms” Haymitch leans in. “But I’ll warn you now, the Farmer in the Dell joke has already been played out.”

“She’s expecting #3” Rory exits the bathroom, buttoning up his dress shirt.

“And the geese?” Gale asks again.

“Haymitch is the proud father of his own growing brood.” Rory wears a wicked smirk.

“As fun as you two are, I’m going over early. Huckle’s testing a new brew batch. Guess who the official taster is?” Haymitch brandishes his flask.

The sun will begin to set soon, as they make their way past the amber fields. The farmhouse and barn taking shape on the horizon. But the closer they get, other things take shape as well.

He sees the smoke from multiple firepits set between the two buildings. Sounds of music and laughter growing louder. Then the land starts to move with hundreds of people weaving around each other.

“What’s going on?” Gale would guess the Harvest Festival but that has already passed. 

“It’s a surprise party!” Rory claps him on the back, “For the hero of Twelve.” He looks at his younger brother, shaking his head in disbelief. Rory’s voice softens. “Gale, everyone remembers what you did. You saw the trap. Who knows if any of us would be alive if you hadn’t led us out before the bombs. They want to thank you.”

Gale’s feet drag. The sight before him stuck in a surreal haze. Rory’s pressure on his back keeps his forward momentum.

As they approach the crowd erupts into cheers. Thom steps out first and slams him in a bear hug. Leevy is at his side, their little girl clinging to her mother’s leg. People make their rounds to shake his hand, some greeting him, some introducing themselves. Sharing their stories about where they were in the square that night.

He meanders through the welcoming arms. Delly is one of many who opts for a hug, her children and husband in tow. Ol’ Greasy Sae serves him up a bowl of hearty venison stew along with a ‘good to see you home, boy’.

Settling at one of the firepits with his bowl of the morning’s hunt, he looks across his reconstructed district. Couples dancing, children twirling in between.

Katniss and Peeta are cuddled together nearby. Peeta cradles one of the Linden babies in his arms. He sees Haymitch wiggle its little toes while saying something. Katniss freezes looking terrified, but Peeta laughs then captures her slack jawed expression in a kiss. 

Gale takes the letter out of his pocket. Turning the envelope in his hand, he regards it one last time before tossing it into the flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moral of the story – Properly file your paperwork


End file.
